The View from Herehttps://denisegainey.wordpress.com
Finding My VoiceFri, 13 Sep 2019 10:19:11 +0000en
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1 http://wordpress.com/https://secure.gravatar.com/blavatar/0292ad53c42f4254ea0b8a8c2e4d6985?s=96&d=https%3A%2F%2Fs0.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.pngThe View from Herehttps://denisegainey.wordpress.com
On Serendipity and Freelancing Therapy Dawgshttps://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/09/12/on-serendipity-and-freelancing-therapy-dawgs/
https://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/09/12/on-serendipity-and-freelancing-therapy-dawgs/#commentsFri, 13 Sep 2019 04:08:55 +0000http://denisegainey.wordpress.com/?p=17731More On Serendipity and Freelancing Therapy Dawgs]]>We are finally coming to the conclusion of a huge outdoor home project that has been years in the making…hopefully the next-to-last summer of big, expensive home projects (said with slight smirk, as I know both my husband and myself all too well when it comes to how much we love working on Chez Gainey).

Dan (aka Mr. MacKenzie) working on his terraced planters and fountain.

After we’d made the big run for soil and flowers for the new planters at the front of our home, Dan asked if I wanted to ride with him back to Home Depot for a few more flowers. I had been telling him for quite a while that I wanted to bring our husky, Marley, with us on one of these excursions, so I decided to grab her leash and load our sweet girl into the Countryman for her first trip to Lowe’s/Home Depot (she is a Gainey, after all!).

From the moment we walked through the glass doors, so many people stopped to love on her, and she loved every moment of affection. However, I knew the real reason of why I’d felt the pull to bring her with us when a tall man in a red flannel shirt tentatively asked if he could pet Marley, asking questions about her as he bent over and gently rubbed her head and back. When he looked up, his face was beet red and he was quietly sobbing, saying that he’d just lost his dog last night. I started crying, too, putting my hand on his shoulder to tell him I was so sorry for his loss. He stroked Marley’s thick fur once more and thanked me for bringing her before he walked away, wiping his eyes.

Serendipity is a beautiful thing. Marley, part angel that she is, was able to bring smiles to many, and some solace to an aching, grieving, heart. I can’t seem to stop thinking about our encounter with the gentleman, and the good work that Marley did in comforting him by being her calm, gentle self. Like many dogs, our girl is a true therapy dog…only she’s just freelancing. We’ll definitely be making more trips to Home Depot and Lowe’s; there are still projects galore to be done for our one hundred-year-old home…and Marley has much more work to do, too, spreading joy.

I have written so much about my mother, always trying to portray her as the imperfect and very real woman that she was. To me, her imperfections and quirkiness were what made her special and so very strong. After all of these years, maybe I’m finally allowing myself that same understanding.

Bed head and Shiva…

I have struggled unsuccessfully in my quest to be perfect my entire life; the good girl who never misbehaved, made good grades, made first chair in band. The Girl Scout, the helper, the ‘do anything I can to keep the peace’ girl. In trying to look ‘perfect’ I have struggled with weight issues, ranging from anorexia and bulimia in my twenties to extreme diets that only eventually helped to add unwanted pounds. Perfectionism has stressed the hell out of me, turning me into a constant tight ball of anxiety, thanks to the impossibly high bar of expectations that I set for myself.

The professional me…

As I wade through the second half of my fifties, my perspective is subtly shifting. I’m tired of the constant nagging of my inner voice that criticizes every decision, every word, every reflection in the mirror. I don’t want to continue the vicious cycle of trying to build myself up only to tear myself down to the studs again and again. I fiercely champion my students, doing my best to help them see themselves as the beautiful humans that they are, always telling them that it’s not about being perfect; it’s about giving your best…why can’t I see my own worth?

Top deck views with my love.

I don’t have to be perfect. I am so not perfect. There, I said it. I am grateful for finding my way through dark days with hard work, my mother’s strength, and the support of dear friends and family. I am grateful to be in a very happy and loving marriage, for a thriving and rewarding career, for true friendship, for a home that my husband and I have turned into an oasis of peace.

Flowers and Marley…

Just writing the words seems to lift some of the weight from my chest. I have rehearsed this role of unworthiness for a long time and I know that old habits don’t die easily. However, I also really believe the words of a former professor, “Act your way into a new way of being.” If you want to change a behavior, begin doing the things that are characteristic of the better behavior; if you want to be healthy, eat and exercise like a healthy person. If you want to be successful, work hard like successful people do. If you want to be worthy, embrace imperfection, give your best, be your unique self…but know that in doing soyou have beenworthy from the very beginning.

The new semester began yesterday with such promise; I popped out of bed at 5am, kickboxed in my gym, took care of the animals, did some house chores, and was in my office by 7:15 to prepare for my 8am class. I wish that I had counted how many student issues I took care of, how many registration blocks I removed, how many smiling faces of new and returning students I greeted. This began my thirty-third year of teaching, and I still get so excited when it all starts anew.

This Tuesday morning began with the same promise as I got up early to let Marley out before heading up to my gym to exercise. It has been storming, and everything is wet and uber soggy…and Marley hates the wet. I stood on the deck at the top of the stairs and kept encouraging her to do her business as she looked back at me like I was asking her to step into molten lava. I stepped down a couple of steps and encouraged her again, and then one more step. At that point, my sandal suddenly slipped on the mossy step and I went flying, desperately grabbing at the railings, my leg bent backwards. I knew if I went down that my leg would break. Time seemed to stop; I managed to grab the newel post as an anchor and hung there for what felt like forever until I could gradually sink to the step, shaking like a leaf. Oh, and by the way, Marley never did go.

I finally collected myself enough to assess the damages; my thumbnails had bent back while digging into the railing, my foot felt like it was possibly sprained, my back and hip were painful, I was scraped and bruised. I hobbled into the house, Marley happily in tow, and went into our bedroom to tell Dan what had happened. He felt terrible, as he’d been meaning to pressure wash the decks and stairs, but several home projects have delayed it. It’s so not his fault- and for once it’s not me being klutzy…I just happened to step at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I was determined to cobble myself together and get to school. I had a lesson, an advising session, and an entire afternoon of clarinet auditions to do for the band program. I hate not being able to do my job and never want to let my students down…but, I was in a lot of pain. Dan, my best friend, and my Chair encouraged me to stay home and take care of myself, and so I finally agreed that they were right. I needed a day at home to rest and heal – even though it was only the second day of classes.

My sweet nap buddy.

And so, today was a throw-away day. Oh, I did lots of school work via computer, but I missed the excitement and the thrill of being in the music building as our new semester gets underway. I missed teaching, interacting with students, and hearing my students play auditions. Instead, I iced, I stretched, I used my heating pad, I rested, I read, and I admit to having a few medicinal cookies.

Here is to a better day tomorrow; one filled with care, joy, laughter, gratitude, and a good full day of doing what I love.

]]>https://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/27/on-throw-away-days/feed/4denisegaineyThe Blink of an Eyehttps://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/25/the-blink-of-an-eye/
https://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/25/the-blink-of-an-eye/#commentsMon, 26 Aug 2019 03:06:33 +0000http://denisegainey.wordpress.com/?p=17687More The Blink of an Eye]]>

In the blink of an eye

my youth is gone;

Instead of dewey innocence,

lines of laughter, tears, and time etch my brow.

Where did life go?

I refuse to utter words of complaint, though;

Each and every day has brought with them lessons,

Wisdom gained through pain and loss…and joy.

While my outer shell is showing marks of life’s battles,

my spirit within is filled with revelation, ageless, power-filled.

Every moment a rare and precious gift,

to be celebrated with gratitude and reverence.

I will look out into the future through eyes filled with hope, seeing beauty in the chaos,

]]>https://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/20/morning-meditation/feed/2img_8713denisegaineyThe Shiva Chronicles: Decisionshttps://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/18/the-shiva-chronicles-decisions/
https://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/18/the-shiva-chronicles-decisions/#commentsSun, 18 Aug 2019 12:35:45 +0000http://denisegainey.wordpress.com/?p=17659More The Shiva Chronicles: Decisions]]>I took Shiva for her checkup a couple of days ago; the last time she was quiet as a mouse the entire visit…this time she was great until about a third of the way through the appointment. At that point her head began spinning around and sounds erupted from her that I’ve not ever heard from any living creature. Seriously- it was the stuff of The Exorcist.

I joke about Shiva a lot and put many humorous posts about her on Facebook, but in all honesty, Shiva is not an easy animal to live with. Her nicknames are Syble and Demonseed, in honor of her many disparate personalities; she is moody and sometimes aggressive, she has destroyed about $1000 worth of my clothing thanks to her Pica disease, she has manic periods where she cries and races around the house, and she’s destroyed the paint on our pretty bannister, running up and down it.

Little Mary Sunshine…

We went to our vet out of frustration, in all honestly feeling that if something doesn’t change that maybe Shiva would be better suited in another home. We don’t want to give up on her; I truly love her and take my responsibility to my animals to heart. However, where does it come to the point where our quality of life becomes just as important as that of a seven pound feline devil?

Stretch!

Dr. Claytor, our beloved vet of seventeen years, was understanding. She’s had Tortoiseshell cats before and has experienced what we’re facing. She said her first suggestion would be to allow Shiva some time outdoors, as Torties are avid hunters and she is obviously feeling frustrated being inside- no matter how much we play with her. She also suggested getting a male kitten so that she would have a pride to be the leader of. Neither of those options is feasible for our family; there is a large feral cat population around us and we feel she could easily get hurt or disappear- something we just couldn’t live with. Another cat is not something we want to have right now, feeling the balance of one dog and one cat works very well for us in our often busy, travel-filled lives.

This is what Shiva thinks of all our ideas…

I brought up a medication that a good friend uses with her Tortie who exhibited many of the same behaviors,Amitriptyline. Dr. Claytor was concerned and didn’t want to keep Shiva on it, but said we could give it a try and then gradually move to primarily giving her natural calming treats. I so wish I could have taken a photo as the vet administered the first dose to my wild-eyed feline; Shiva frothed at the mouth and truly looked like she’d been possessed by Linda Blair. Nightmarish.

Hmmm….

Shiva is a tiny terror; at only seven pounds her dose is a sixth of a pill, a tiny chip that we either put in her daily cat lax or in a small piece of Pâté. Most days she has taken it easily and we are starting to see a positive difference in her behavior. Shiva is never going to be a cuddly cat (except at 3am when she stands on my chest in bed, wanting love), and that’s okay. We love her quirkiness; we just don’t want to be attacked or have our home and belongings damaged.

Shiva does love her Marley.

We feel hope that with a little help from the medicine Shiva can live peacefully in our home. We’ll keep working with her; Torties are complex animals that behave differently from any cat I’ve ever known. She is worth the effort, though…those rare sweet moments are priceless.

I took a bad fall while walking Marley early yesterday morning; totally my fault for trying to remove my phone from my armband to answer a call (something I never do while exercising, but thought it was my sister or my best friend). Not paying attention for even a moment while walking Southside’s uneven and broken sidewalks is foolish. Sure enough, my size ten sneaker hit an upturned part of cement and suddenly the sidewalk was coming at me full speed, the leash saddle flying out of my hand…but my sweet Marley staying right by me, looking concerned as I bit the dust, cursing like a sailor.

It was a good reminder to me to pay attention, to be more mindful in my life. Not just to protect my sometimes (often) klutzy self, but also so that I don’t miss the important things that are sometimes incredibly fleeting.

Shiva the Diva…

Those little things; the many small but oh-so-considerate things that Dan does for me every day to show his love; the rare moments when Shiva is sweet, the way light comes through the bedroom window as the sun begins to make its climb into the morning sky. The smile of a stranger on the street, the laughter of a small child, seeing someone show kindness to someone in need, the hummingbirds finally at our feeder, the sound of a summer storm. I live so much inside my own head, too much. I get lost in my thoughts, my dreams of the future, and my constant worries. Life happens now, in this moment; far too precious a thing to miss, even for a brief second.

I’m going to do my best to not only keep my eyes open, but also keep my mind engaged. As a huge introvert, going inward has been a necessary tool for surviving the chaos of the world around me. I think I can find a better balance, though, of recharging my batteries and staying aware everyday of the ordinary and extraordinary beauty of life.

Dan and Marley…

As for me, I’m sore and achy from the fall, but so grateful that I didn’t break anything- especially as I have a recording session this week. Sometimes it takes the proverbial whack on the head to wake me up, reminding me to be present for my life- all of it. There are some pretty amazing things happening all around me and I don’t want to miss any of it. And…I can guarantee that I’ll be keeping a better eye on the sidewalks in my ‘hood, too.

I had been watching for the open house ever since I saw the ‘for sale’ sign go up outside of what I lovingly call my ‘Blue House’, the house that I bought when I first came to Birmingham seventeen years ago. The house whose foundation I repaired while it in turn repaired my own foundation after a divorce and move to a new city, a new job, and a new life. A house I can never repay.

I found Blue House while sitting at the computer in my office at Mars Hill College, just north of Asheville, North Carolina. I had won the clarinet job at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, my first marriage was crumbling and I knew I needed a fresh start in life. I can’t explain the connection, but I knew the moment that I saw the photos and read the description that I was meant to buy that house. It was not an easy battle: my soon-to-be ex-husband was totally against the idea, but every fiber of my being called me to it. Rocky roads often lead to beautiful destinations.

Open house!

I bought the house, built in 1920, knowing that the foundation had to be repaired immediately. I didn’t care; there was something about the house that spoke to my heart, and I knew it would be worth working through the issues. I can still see the day I closed on the house so clearly, opening the door and letting my dogs Guinness and Murphy run inside, saying, “We’re home, Boys!”

My soul dog, Guinness. A sweet, old soul.

As I worked on repairing the house and nesting, I felt myself begin to heal from the near mortal wounds of divorce. I began to find my strength, my confidence, in a way I never had before. Everything was new; new job, new people, new home, new way of life, but I had never felt more like I was on a true course, never felt more alive.

The original ‘for sale’ sign in 2002

Even driving up to the house with the realtor and my dear friend, Carol, I felt connected to the house like an electric current. I was meant to be there. The realtor tried many times to dissuade me from buying the house because of the foundation issues and the neighborhood, but I felt like I was on a mission from God. I didn’t care what it took- I had to own the house and the amazing energy that accompanied it; the house would heal me as I worked to restore it.

Me with Guinness and Bailey…

Living on my own for the first time in over fifteen years came with a steep learning curve. I felt afraid at times, but focused on settling in with my new job and learning about the city of Birmingham. I painted walls, I cleaned, I decorated, every improvement giving me a much-needed confidence and courage. I swore to people that I would never leave the Blue House, that I’d have to be carried out on a stretcher. And then I met Dan Gainey.

As cheesy as it sounds, I knew the moment that I met Dan that I would marry him. It felt like a punch to the gut, an electricity connecting us that was bigger than each of us. We talked and dreamed and planned for the future, realizing finally that neither my Blue House or his newly renovated condo made as much sense as looking around for a place that would be ours.

Chez Gainey in winter…

We found the house that would become our ‘Chez Gainey’, just down the same street from Blue House. A 1920 home that we would work on together to make it our own, one that offered so many things that my Blue House couldn’t; two garages, tons of outdoor space for the dogs and entertaining, a home with lots of privacy from the street. We have never regretted moving, and each day that I walk Marley past Blue House, or we drive by on our way home, we always say, “thank you, Blue House!”

Marley takes in Chez Gainey’s top deck views…

Walking through the completely renovated Blue House was such an emotional experience. Dan wasn’t able to go with me, but maybe it was best; this was a bit of closure for me from an old life that I hadn’t realized I needed. I went from room to room, memories flooding my mind, seeing the new house, seeing my time there, seeing all of the life and change that happened during my year and a few months spent living and growing there.

Blue House is now a beautiful blank slate for someone new to create memories within its walls, enjoying its wonderful views of Birmingham. My heart felt so happy seeing it taken to such a high level, and I couldn’t help but feel a correlation between Blue House and myself. We came together when we were both broken and in need of patience, time, and love. We each needed to be loved to reach our full potential, even though we were both worthy the entire time. As I walked out onto the gazebo at the end of my tour, I looked out at the amazing view of the city and turned back to the front door, whispering, “Thank you so much Blue House…for everything.”

]]>https://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/05/on-a-long-overdue-thank-you/feed/4img_1066-1denisegaineyThe Scorched Earthhttps://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/03/the-scorched-earth/
https://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/03/the-scorched-earth/#commentsSat, 03 Aug 2019 10:52:40 +0000http://denisegainey.wordpress.com/?p=17588More The Scorched Earth]]>As I look out at the scorched earth of a Southern summer,

Somnolent bees nuzzling thirsty petals in the lazy breeze,

I wipe the sweat from my brow, grateful for this season of life.

I am in my own summer, youth no longer at my beck and call.

I feel the whispers of fall, the promise of change,

Another chapter waiting to be lovingly written in broad strokes.

Age is a gift, one that I want to unwrap slowly and carefully,

Enjoying each and every precious moment.

]]>https://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/08/03/the-scorched-earth/feed/6img_8797denisegaineyOn Road Trips, Memorials, Clarinets, and Lifehttps://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/07/24/on-road-trips-memorials-clarinets-and-life/
https://denisegainey.wordpress.com/2019/07/24/on-road-trips-memorials-clarinets-and-life/#commentsThu, 25 Jul 2019 01:37:47 +0000http://denisegainey.wordpress.com/?p=17552More On Road Trips, Memorials, Clarinets, and Life]]>I am bone- weary tired from driving much of the day, but wanted to get some thoughts down while things were still fresh in my mind. I’m in Knoxville, Tennessee, finally tucked into my hotel bed after leaving Birmingham before 8am with my best friend and Amicitia Duo partner, Diane. We’re here to attend the International Clarinet Association’s ClarinetFest at the University of Tennessee after a couple of days of Board meetings for me. The trip isn’t just for work, though- we made a very special stop on the way.

Diane and I have been friends for over thirty years; we’ve seen the gamut that life has to offer- truly the good, the bad, and the ugly. All through it we’ve held on tight, helping each other navigate life through tears and laughter, and lots of love. The past year has been horrendous for Diane in every way possible, including the loss of her sweet mother. There were other awful things happening on top of the terrible pain of grief, and Diane was never able to give her mother a memorial service.

When I mentioned that I’d love to take the time on our drive to Knoxville to show her the special waterfall on the upper Nantahala River where Dan and I were married and where I released my mother’s ashes, she asked about the possibility of releasing her mother’s ashes there, too, which I thought was a beautiful idea. There is something magical about Knottyhead Falls; I feel an incredibly strong connection with the Nantahala River and plan to live there someday. It is the one place in the world where I truly feel at peace.

My heart has ached for my best friend, and I’ve felt so helpless as she’s faced some of the worst life has to offer. I knew that having our own ceremony to honor her mother would bring her some much-needed peace, just as it did for me after I lost my mother. She brought some ashes from both of her parents, slowly releasing them into the falls as we sat side by side on the ancient rock formation. We listened to our recording of ‘Play Pretty’ from the ‘Amicitia Suite’, written for us by the wonderful composer Scott McAllister. ‘Play Pretty’ is the movement dedicated to Diane’s mother, inspired by the words she said to Diane before every performance. I read a poem…I felt Mom Cawein with us as the swirling waters carried she and Dad Cawein down the river. Diane was racked with sobs, emotion that had needed a release for a long time.

Here it is now a few days later and we are back in our professional world, preparing to perform a recital tomorrow afternoon, seeing clarinet colleagues from all over the globe, being inspired by the best of the best. This time is healing for Diane, too, getting back to normal routines, back to life. How grateful I am to be on this journey with her, no matter what comes our way. Friendship is one of life’s greatest gifts, no doubt about it.